


A Day In The Life

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Actor RPF, The Establishment (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: April Showers Challenge 2011, RPG characters, RPG: Establishment, RPG: Theatrical Muse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-20
Updated: 2004-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of domestic bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day In The Life

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing:** Gerard Butler/Pierce Brosnan ([Establishment](http://www.journalfen.net/userinfo.bml?user=establishment)/[Theatrical Muse](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=theatrical_muse))  
>  **Warnings:** Assumed long term d/s relationship. References to sadomasochism. Nothing very explicit.  
>  **Dedication:** To [](http://zillah975.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://zillah975.livejournal.com/)**zillah975** , who offered me fudge if I'd share this. Otherwise, it would never have seen the light of day.  
> 

The room was painted a pale yellow, but the bedspread, the sheets, and all the pillows were black so that any blood stains wouldn't show. There was only one chair in the room, even though two shared the house. Pierce wasn't allowed to sit in the master bedroom, unless it was to kneel at Gerry's feet. Occasionally, when they were out of role, Pierce would relax in the bedroom, but it was always on a beanbag chair or one of the foldouts from inside the closet. The wicker chair was Gerry's. They had been living together for eight years already and not once during that time had Pierce sat in Gerry's chair. Theirs was an easy, comfortable relationship, but not one without rules.

It was six twenty nine and the alarm was about to go off. Pierce had woken up forty five minutes before, showered, and had made breakfast. When Gerry awoke, the first thing he wanted to see was Pierce kneeling by the side of the bed. The second thing he wanted was his coffee. The third varied between having his boy facedown on the bed, getting fucked within an inch of his life, and needing a cold shower before facing the day. When scheduling two careers took them to opposite sides of the world, they would set up a mutually acceptable time for Pierce to call. But the motion picture gods were smiling down on them and they were both filming in London at the same time. In the same studio, to boot, albeit on different floors and for completely different films. These days, Gerry took water instead of coffee in the morning, and was careful to do nothing that would damage his voice. It was all original voices and one of the requirements to play the Phantom was a good singing voice. Gerry took his job very seriously and Pierce had learned not to put a foot out of line lest he find himself bound and gagged and tethered to the railing going down to the basement. Gerry had a particular talent for turning even the most arousing scenario into grim punishment.

Pierce had just got the breakfast tray settled on the nightstand and tucked his hands behind his back when Reville began. Gerry groaned and rolled over, groping blindly for the 'sleep' button. In all the years Pierce had known him, Gerry never failed to wake up within the first blasts of the trumpet, although Gerry had privately confided that by now he didn't even realize what it was, just that it was annoying and despicable and must therefore be eradicated. Gerry's hand made a glancing blow off the sleep button and the alarm subsided. Gerry rolled back over, intent on squeezing more sleep out of the night, but it only took fifteen seconds by Pierce's count for Gerry to pop one eye open and demand a blowjob. Pierce climbed onto the bed and eagerly obeyed, sucking lightly until he felt his master's cock begin to harden in his mouth, then taking it all the way down. But before Gerry was even close, he pulled Pierce's head back and scrambled off the bed, straight for a piss and a shower.

While the water ran, Pierce made the bed (a practice Gerry always called futile, but never ordered him to stop doing it) and got dressed. Gerry spent longer in the shower than usual, whistling a few bars of _Music of the Night_ absently as he washed his hair. Once he was finished dressing, Pierce laid out black jeans and a grey polo shirt for Gerry, taking care to place Gerry's mobile phone in the pocket of the jeans. Pierce knew from too much experience that unless the bloody thing was attached to him, Gerry would forget it. And when the directors couldn't get in touch with their star, it was always Pierce they came yelling at. Supposedly James Bond was able to cure all bad habits just by ordering them so. Pierce never had the heart to tell them the real lay of the land. It would shatter too much of their precious preconceived notions. Even back when Pierce's birthday present to Gerry had been a bit part in a James Bond movie, which Pierce _knew_ had been Gerry's dream since he had first seen Dr. No, everyone had assumed that Pierce was trying to impress his lover by getting him a part in a big-budget film. Pierce would be the first to blacken the eye of anyone who said he was trying to buy his way into his lover's affections. Just because he gladly submitted to Gerry on a daily basis didn't mean he was above having some backbone.

Gerry exited the bathroom, steam billowing out around him, a white towel wrapped around his waist. Pierce gave him a quick kiss before leaving him to get himself ready to face the world. Before he could leave the room, however, Gerry called him back and threw a small circular piece of metal at him. Pierce grimaced as he caught it, but put the cockring on nonetheless. It wouldn't be enough to keep him from coming, but it would be enough to make life very fucking hard to walk until he did. 'A reward,' Gerry called it, but Pierce would have rathered he be rewarded some other way. Possibly on the kitchen counter. Or in the driveway, up against the hood of his BMW. Or against the tile wall of the shower, watching his blood slide down to disappear into the drain. Or maybe even -

Pierce groaned, his thoughts not helping his situation one bit. He checked his e-mail while he waited for his master's descent and read over the day's script. Completely useless activities, but they took his mind off his cock. One of their rituals was to run lines every night after dinner while Pierce cleaned up. Pierce liked taking caring of Gerry. It grounded him, reminded him what was truly valuable in life, took his mind off all the pressure. It was mundane, it was monotonous, and he liked it. He mouthed the words as he went, playing around with inflections, then with accents, until he sounded like a Ukrainian grandmother who had never spoken a word of English in her life. It was at that moment, of course, that Gerry chose to come downstairs. Pierce blushed a little before going over and kneeling for his master. The clock was just striking seven.

It was Gerry's turn to drive to the studio, but Pierce's call wasn't until later, so he hung around Gerry's dressing room, helping him change, getting in the way of the make up girls. Some of them stammered and a few asked for his autograph. Gerry had to cough to cover a laugh as Pierce obliged them. Once he was done, Pierce shot his master a look of death, which Gerry returned with a look of his own. _You are going to pay for that._

Pierce's reply was a smirk. He couldn't wait.

Unfortunately, they had to wait. Gerry didn't get out until late and so Pierce brought out the blanket out of the boot so that Gerry could get some sleep on the long ride home. Once there, Pierce served dinner and ate his at Gerry's feet. Afterwards, though, Gerry ordered Pierce onto the Cross and gave him what he wanted.

Ain't love grand?


End file.
